Wayne Falconer

We all need our roots man growing,
even blind man lost is knowing.
There's a human need to identify,
with that which we can't deny.

Our physical spiritual family home,
where the hearts never upon loan.
In countryside, city or province bound,
our past roots can be found around.

Your or my father, sister, mother,
cousin, uncle, aunt and brother.
Childhood friends and past lover,
all are part parcel of one another.

Familiar places, the secret spaces,
past forgotten newly remembered faces.
Beaches, parks, town, suburban street,
where all your past ghost meet.

Summary sparkling, sun beach days,
childhood green hills, sandy walkways.
Teen girl and boy hand in hand,
walk over uncharted emotional land.

Events looming large and small,
alter shape if we rise or fall.
All is part of you and I,
until day our earthly spirits shall fly.

Without our roots we are lost,
left insecure to count the cost.
Our identity would be on trial,
leaving you to walk the faithless mile.

Our roots grasp and bind us tight,
daily shed light restore our sight.
Leaving you and I never in doubt,
where or what we are about.

You gotta have your roots man,
I imagine it's part of God's plan.
The unconscious face of you and I,
centered beneath the universal sky.